


Black Swan

by evanescent (Wolfstar918)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-SPECTRE, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfstar918/pseuds/evanescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Q was meant to have been left behind. Bond was supposed to have had his grand getaway. Madeleine Swann should have been 007's lover long into his senior years. Life, though, tends to shit all over should-be's and completely destroy any and all shreds of dignity 'fate' had left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

* * *

 

Q wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, to be perfectly honest. The Nine Eyes Affair - as it had begun to be referred to by the majority of MI5 and MI6 agents - had been over for almost six months now. They had rebuilt Six; M had refused to move into the new building after all was said and done - not that anyone could blame him. They had temporarily moved back to the tunnels and a few other safe locations throughout London, until, after a slightly rushed job, albeit not shoddy in any way, they were returned to their prior work location. The headquarters, although new, still felt like home to Q. And standing at his desk in the Q-Branch of the building, it was almost like nothing had changed. For the most part, he was more than contented with his career. Other things in his life he was less than happy with, but overall he couldn't complain. His job helped people. He helped people. He had a comfortable flat in one of the nicer parts of London, two cats whose behavior many people thought mirrored that of the Head of the Q-Branch’s very well, and no incredibly dangerous or over the top cases at the moment.

Perhaps that was why the things that bothered him stood out so. He noticed the way the newest Q-Branch employee was always seventeen minutes, on the dot, late bringing his afternoon tea. He noticed how Moneypenny was always looking at him with that sad, knowing expression. He noticed how woefully inadequate at self-defense he was. He noticed the wary looks given to him by an M that was still worried about the possibility of another Nine Eyes incident. He noticed the lack of surveillance equipment that had been requested - although he continued to develop it nonetheless. Most of all, however, Q noticed the lonely, empty feelings that formed in the pit of his stomach every single time he thought about James fucking Bond. Every time Q was verifying the designs of a particular new weapon or new vehicle, he'd have that thought in the back of his mind ‘ _Bond would have liked this._ ’. When he was doing paperwork, Q would wryly muse how Bond being around would have added tons more to the stack. He had almost called 002 ‘007’ by mistake not two days past. But Bond was gone. James Bond had left, and instead of that warm aching, wanting feeling that Q had grown to associate with the other man - a feeling he knew rationally speaking, would only ever cause havoc and heartbreak in his life - he felt empty. It was like a piece of ice had lodged itself in his chest, and as time passed, melted away to slowly leave a void there. It was always there - he could always feel it. It was uncomfortable, of course, but he had begun to grow accustomed to the black hole he felt he contained within himself.

Maybe that hole would have been filled. Maybe he would have gotten better on his own; found someone more reliable than James “license to kill” Bond. Yet, in retrospect, Q should have known it would have played out this way. One didn't leave the business so easily - even if, or maybe especially if - one was James Bond. A drive off into the sunset might have been the way it would have ended in a movie - Q had pictured it dozens of times since he'd realized Bond had gone for good - James and Swann, sitting together in _his_ car [ Q had treated that thing like an angel rebuilding it and all _himself_ ], driving off to some tropical region to fuck and do whatever it was James thought retiring entailed. Probably more fucking - but this was _real life_. Not some movie franchise that so shallowly tried to mimic the intricacies of being a spy. Bond had enemies. They'd find him eventually - he'd have to have been an idiot to think otherwise.

Q, in retrospect, had been far too preoccupied to think about it clearly. He had of course, known that James Bond was a ladies’ man [ albeit there was some speculation he might have been bi or pan around the office ]. Regardless of even that, Bond wouldn't want Q - scrawny, schoolboy looking Q. Q should have known after that first comment about the spots. Yet, Q was young. While he would argue vehemently that age played no role in his professional behaviors - something which was absolutely true - Q had far less experience romantically than his other colleagues, if only due to the difference in age. It was inevitable, one could suppose then, that he would wind up falling for the most charming agent MI6 had to offer. There is, however, a difference between knowing and _knowing_ things. And when Q _knew -_ when Madeleine Swann had so graciously shoved it in his face that she was what Bond wanted at the end of the day - she was who the double-oh agent chose to run away with - it _hurt_ so much. Almost like someone was ripping his heart right out of his chest. He had remained professional then, of course. But no one would have ever known that when he returned to his flat, he spent several hours going between berating himself for ever being so much of an idiot as to fall for fucking James fucking Bond and watching SyFy in a desperate, last ditch attempt to get his mind off of things while on the verge of tearing up. So, he might have been too preoccupied keeping his mind off of Bond to notice the flaws with Bond’s getaway plan.

After that, it was no wonder he hadn't noticed anything. Q had been too busy with his daily routine. He had made himself busy to keep his mind off of what was clearly - he wasn't about to lie to himself - heartbreak. And maybe even just plain old missing him. After spending every day working with 007, he hadn't realized just how much his schedule revolved around the other man. His days seemed empty without the sarcastic quips between himself and Bond. Granted, he was still sarcastic as ever, but no one other than Bond was ever sarcastic back to him. The office was eerily quiet without Bond strolling in and trying to flirt with the newest arrivals. The gear seemed unnervingly intact and safe without the threat of Bond dropping in and grabbing it for another secret mission of his own. He almost missed the ability to yell at the agent when he did something stupid. The other double-oh agents didn't seem to be nearly as much as a handful as Bond. The boredom wasn't helping Q at all to be honest. It just made the things that bothered him and the aching feeling in his chest stand out all the more. Rarely was he challenged or even stressed these days. The missions seemed almost dull in comparison to the roller coaster of adventure that was being _James Bond’s_ Quartermaster. Even if he had to fucking fly every now and again. Q was almost disgusted with how many parts of his life were influenced by the man. So, really, pushing any thoughts that popped up about the whereabouts of Bond to the back of his head was just the best way he could cope. And so Q didn't willingly think about Bond for a very long time.

Until of course, it was too late.

It was in his new [ old ] office that Q first got the text. He had been busy. Having signed off on a few dozen new designs for gadgets specifically for the double-on division, he was in a sour mood. Doing anything related to the double-oh division tended to put him in a less than savory mood. And the fact his job practically revolved around that particular group of people didn't help at all. Normally, he just felt more melancholy than annoyed, but today, budget cuts had been the topic of discussion that morning. So Q had already been peeved in the sort of manner that would have continued to snowball up until it exploded, likely aimed at an agent or one of the researchers under his employ. It would have, had the text not arrived, sending a chime through the practically silent office. He'd picked up his phone, more than a bit disgruntled to have been interrupted by something that was a likely rather unimportant. However, after he read the message once, he froze, his expression changing from annoyed to carefully impassive. The message was short, to the point, though from a number he was unable to trace despite his best efforts.

“Bond has been captured.”

Four short, simple words that sent Q’s insides churning. The image that came after of 007 strapped to a chair only worsened it. His eyes felt like they were focusing and unfocusing at uneven, sickening intervals, and he had to sit down in the seldom used office chair for once. It could have been a fake. Maybe. But it would have been a lot of effort for nothing, and when it came to Bond, these sorts of things had an uncanny tendency to be accurate, and when Q managed to get a handle on himself - not ten seconds later - he did a few things.

First though, he instructed Hughes to get him his goddamned tea **on time**.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Q is Grounded

Three hours later Q was handcuffed to a chair. It wasn't a chair that belonged to the enemy. But the chair he sat on and worked in every day.  When you're a teenager, your parents ground you from going out.  When you're the MI6 Quartermaster, M has you handcuffed to your chair.  Q had jumped right into looking for information on 007. He found it, too; exactly what he'd been looking for. The number had been easy enough to trace, maybe too easy, but regardless, he'd found out where the double oh agent was being held rather quickly. And that brought us back to Q.  Handcuffed to his chair.  
  
His wrists weren't cuffed uncomfortably tightly, but it was, indeed, tight enough that he really shouldn't be struggling to pull free. He huffed, eyeing the female in front of him. "Eve. Let me go. Now. This is ridiculous. I'm the blasted Quartermaster - you can't tie me up; I won't be able to assist."  
  
"R is perfectly capable of doing so and you know it," Moneypenny pointed out, "And, regardless, you're not really tied up. We left you your computer-"  
  
"Disconnected it from the network," he whined in a way that probably didn't do much for the fact he was, actually, an adult.  
  
"And some movies. And those cuffs have enough slack for you to enjoy some tea."  
  
"If Hughes can get it to me before I fucking die," Q muttered.  
  
"Look, Q, you know as well as I do why this happened. And I'm not blaming you. Double oh seven is a very daring and dashing and all that. He's also stupid. And he gets himself into stupid situations. He's very good at getting out of them too. Only, whenever he does, he usually winds up hurting someone, physically or emotionally. And I'm afraid M and I agree that it's simply not safe for one of MI6's most important resources to go dashing out to rescue 007 like a lovesick schoolboy - and don't deny it Q. We all know it's true. You always go the extra mile for him. Even he knows it. He uses it too."  
  
His chest tightened at that. It was true. Of course it was. It didn't surprise him that Bond knew how he felt. It just hurt to hear it coming from someone else's lips. It wasn't just the quiet mumblings he said to himself anymore. When she said it it suddenly became all too real. Yes. Bond knew how he felt - at least to some extent. Bond knew that Q favored him. Knew that Q would do crazy things like travel across the globe or go rogue for him. Bond knew that Q cared about him more than appropriate given their jobs. Maybe, just maybe, Bond didn't realize Q was in love with him, maybe he didn't realize how far deep Q was, but James Bond was a super spy. The model super spy actually. It would have been pitiful if Bond didn't notice.  
  
He stopped at that, staring at the blank computer screen in front of him wondering why if he knew all that - why he still was ready to go charging out for James 'wanna fly half way round the world' Bond.

Still, as much as he knew Bond was using him, as much as he knew that at the end of the day there'd always be another Madeleine Swann who'd swoop in to woo Bond and dance off into the sunset with, Q couldn't help wanting to tug free of the cuffs and dash off to rescue 007.

That must've been  _love_  he supposed.  
  
Moneypenny sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze, "Look, Q. I know it's hard to feel this way. And I know you want to be Bond's knight in shining armor. But you're untrained, and at risk of being captured yourself if you go in, and then where'll we be? And I'd try to convince M to uncuff you but we both know if we do you're just going to disregard everything I'm saying and rush off anyway."  
  
Q couldn't argue with that.   
  
"Now, 006 is handling the mission, so rest assured there's no need to worry there. He'll do a good job, and if he doesn't, when he gets back you can kick his ass. Electronically if you prefer." Eve offered with a small smile, "So. Which movie shall it be then?"  
  
He took in the selection on the table with a rueful expression. "My online movie selection'd be much better..."  
  
"Likely because you  _illegally_  have several dozen movies that haven't come out yet. Don't think I didn't notice you had Batman vs Superman on your laptop."  
  
"Technically, that's out in theaters," He pointed out.  
  
"You had it on your laptop weeks ago."  
  
"Touché." 

 

* * *

 

Eve Moneypenny wasn't always there to cheer up Q. She supposed she must have been his only friend though, and as such, she took the job very seriously, and whenever she was home, she made it a point to do so. And, as much as she disliked Bond for jerking Q around so, she was also fairly certain that 006 would be screwed for the rest of his life if he messed this mission up. A lovesick Q was a dangerous Q indeed, as per the norm. However, James Bond was, as cliche as a description as this was, like a fire. All the members of the double oh program were. They burned bright and hot for a short while, burning everything and everyone they came in contact with.  
  
And sooner or later, Q was going to get burned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond has an epiphany.

  
James Bond isn't young. In his late thirties, he's getting on for a double oh agent. Which is part of why it's so frustrating he made such a novice mistake. He had every damn intention of retiring. He'd have to in a few years anyway, and Madeline was nice. The daughter of an assassin, as Franz? Blofeld? - whatever the damned man's name was - had pointed out, was the only one who'd understand him. It made sense. It was the logical next step. If it was a movie, it  _would_  be the end scene. The grand finale. The final moments of James Bond, as seen by the world. Then he and Madeline would go off to some remote location and live a perfectly domestic life.  
  
Yet the adrenaline had worn off too fast for that. After a few hours of driving, it became clear that any and all statements made under duress were to be disregarded. It wasn't like he hadn't realized. "I love you." She didn't love him. Not then. They'd known each other a few days, and Bond knew with _intimate_  understanding how those relationships worked.  
  
She could have, and he could have loved her back, he suspected. Given enough time, you can convince yourself of anything. But it had taken all of one week for the pair to split; with Madeline promptly returning to her work. It wasn't a clean break, nor did it end on good terms. But then, so few relationships did.   
  
At least neither of them had died.  
  
He turned around immediately. Couldn't let them replace him with some upstart ready and thrilled to take on the 007 mantle. Apparently, he'd needed one more break to convince himself he was not one of those sunset and domestic types. He'd be an agent till he died, apparently. Not that he hated his work, but it's a grim discovery when one learns they'd, truly, rather be killing people and working for Queen and Country than off in the tropics with a beautiful woman by their side.  
  
James is halfway to MI6 when his car explodes. 

 

* * *

  
  
When he wakes up, the first thing he thinks of, honestly, is how much he's going to miss that car. It was a  _beauty_. The Aston Martin DB5. Q had clearly worked hard on it, and not only that, but he hadn't even gotten a chance to test out the  _lasers_  the quartermaster had outfitted it with. His car had bloody lasers, and he hadn't been able to use them - and wouldn't - because of - hm. He hadn't gotten a look at who was to blame yet. Needless to say though, they would be in trouble.  
  
He opened his eyes, taking in whatever he could as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting. The room's empty. Unsurprising. As unfortunate as it was, this was hardly the first experience like this. And given his desired return to the double oh program, he doubted it would likely be the last. The specifics of the situation weren't exactly unfamiliar either. He was strapped tightly to a chair - a bit too tightly, he could feel the leather digging into his skin - in a manner reminiscent of one of his missions in Italy. The room's popcorn ceiling reminded him vaguely of a frustrating event in America. The car explosion reminded him too, of - well. Of too many instances for him to recount.   
  
Honestly, either James was a bad driver, or criminals really enjoyed blowing up his cars.   
  
He assumed it was the latter.  
  
James continued occupying his mind with similar lines of thought as a man finally entered the room, snapped a photo, and then began his long winded villain spiel. Something about oil. Or was it oceans? Didn't matter, he supposed. Distraction of one's mind was, in James's opinion, the best manner of dealing with these things. So he kept himself thinking about the car. The man showed him a tray of what one could only assume was torture implements. James thought about some old missions. The man made some likely previously thought out pun about the oncoming torture. Bond subconsciously made a snide response, and thought about what sorts of new gadgets Q had no doubt produced. The man got angry. James shut his eyes slowly, and wondered if perhaps - despite his whirlwind exit and quick abandonment of everyone involved to deal with the repercussions without him - anyone in MI6 missed him.   
  
He had, oddly enough - or maybe not so odd given his past, actually missed his coworkers. When was it that he'd decided to allow that motley bunch to take on the mantle of his family? He wasn't sure, and honestly, it was probably the only one he'd ever get, so he didn't particularly care. They were decent people after all. People he had left behind, but good people.   
  
The man whacked him with a - something? it looked like a broomstick - and finally Bond was briefly pulled out of nostalgic thoughts.   
  
It would really be terrible if he wound up dying  _here_ after all that personal revelation.


End file.
